A Valuable Lesson
by cheekymice
Summary: Young Ryan learns a series of tough lessons.
1. Chapter 1

Not beta-ed

A Valuable Lesson

I'd been playing at the local park with some friends one Sunday afternoon. It was hot and humid but that didn't stop us making jumps for our bikes out of the debris that littered the recreation ground. I'd already come off my bike twice and skinned my elbows and knees but that didn't stop me, I loved the feeling of flying through the air, that split second where I thought I could fly was exhilarating, it was the best feeling in the world. The day was sadly drawing to a close, I knew I had to start making tracks for home soon but the pull of just one more jump kept me out later than I should have been. I often wonder if things would have been different if I had just gone home when I should have that day instead of dragging my heels.

I'd just flown over the biggest jump we'd ever made, Barry Angel had dared me that I didn't have the nerve too and I just had to prove him wrong, the Atwood family pride was at stake. I took a long run up and just flew. If I hadn't have made that jump then I would never have seen the box lying nestling in the scrub near where I landed. This was Chino and one thing living here taught me was to check out anything that was lying around…it might be junk but it might just be stolen booty that someone has stashed or dropped. So I got off my bike and walked over to the box. It was a shoebox and looked in fairly good condition, which was promising. Maybe it held a new pair of sneakers that someone had lifted from the nearby mall and dropped or maybe it just held the old, worn sneakers of the person who might have stolen the shiny new ones. Either way it was worth a look.

I lifted the lid and jumped back. I peered in and saw the bodies, the box was full of dead mice it looked like, and I stared, fascinated. Someone's pet had obviously breed and they decided to dump them here. I was just about to turn away when I saw one move. A tiny brown body twitched amongst the black, brown and white corpses. I reached my hand into the box gently removed it. I held it in the palm of my hand. Its body was about four inches long and it was cold. What should I do, the thing was suffering. Should I bring my boot down on it hard to end it's pain, it seemed like the right thing to do but I just couldn't. Its body twitched again but this time it moved its head and looked at me with it's coal black eyes. It was like it was pleading with me. I spat on my finger and held it under its nose. A miniscule pink peanut started to lap at the spit…it was thirsty! I spat again on the end of my finger when it had been licked dry, the eyes looked at me as it drank. I must have spat on my finger about ten times before it stopped drinking. The little thing seemed more awake now. I figured if it had been thirsty then it might be hungry as well. God knows how long it had been in that box. I gently cupped my hand next to my chest and routed around in my pants pocket. I found a squashed Twinkie and ripped it open with my teeth. I broke a bit off and offered it to the mouse. It sniffed then sat up on its back legs with the crumb of cake in its paws. I don't think I've ever felt so happy in my life as when I saw that little thing eat that Twinkie with such relish.

I heard Barry and Jeff come up behind me to see what I was doing. I felt protective of the mouse all of a sudden. Barry was the type of kid that threw stones at cats and stomped on bugs.

"Jesus Ryan…why the fuck are you holding a rat!" He said to me.

"It's a mouse." I replied.

It seems like I knew squat on the subject. Barry informed me that it was too big to be a mouse and I was petting a freaking rat. He then went on to say that we should kill the filthy vermin. He pointed to a tin can laying a little way over, he said that we could put the rat in there, squash down the top and throw it around for a laugh. That excited Jeff and I just felt sick. I held the rat close and wondered why I hung around with the two of them. I told them both to fuck off and walked away. I put the rat in my coat pocket and picked up my bike. I peddled home in record time all the while wondering if the rat was O.K with being stuffed in my pocket.

I rushed past mom and into my bedroom. I took my coat off and wondered if I'd find a corpse. I opened the pocket and looked inside, a wriggling nose and whiskers poked out followed by the rest of its body. It looked around my room as if it was sizing things out. It then sat on its back legs and sniffed the air. I put my hand out and it sniffed my fingers. It gave a tentative nip then started to nibble my fingernail delicately, this made me laugh for some reason. I got the squashed Twinkie out again and broke off another small portion. The rat snatched it from my hand and munched contentedly. I watched it eat every scrap and then it went about cleaning itself. It was tiny but perfect, its pink ears were so thin you could see the light through them and its tail was soft and velvety. I realized that I had to find a safe home for him. Trey fell into the Barry category when it came to animals and I couldn't risk my brother finding it. I pulled out one of my drawers and shifted the clothes to one side. The thick wood would stop him getting out I figured. I used one of my sweaters to make it a bed and filled up an ashtray with water for it. I put it down and watched as it scampered around in my clothes, took a quick drink then burrowed in my jumper. My mom called me for dinner and I gently shut the drawer.

I spent the whole time at the dinner table worrying about the rat. I also saved it a chunk of my garlic bread and a piece of carrot. When I had finished my chores I checked up on Tiny…. hmmm at some point over dinner 'it' had become 'Tiny'. I found him curled up in a ball. He slowly unfurled himself and gave me a huge yawn. I gave him his bread and carrot and he took them and ate every scrap again. I lifted him out of the draw and he scampered around my bed and wove himself in and out of my clothes. The soft fur ticked and his sharp little claws sometimes dug into me but it was a great feeling, Tiny seemed to trust me…he liked me. It was the start of a great friendship.

Tiny lived in my drawer full time, I'd modified it somewhat when I'd found holes in most of my clothes but I didn't have to worry about mom finding him, she was never one for house work and we all had to do our own laundry anyway. Trey was always out and the ass-hole of the day never came into my room. So it was just Tiny and me against the world.

He grew big and fat on the diet of scraps I was giving him. Tiny seemed a stupid name now that he was anything but. He loved his food and the name had stuck so changing it now didn't seem right…I suppose it was kind of funny.

The first time mom's new boyfriend beat the hell out of me, it was Tiny who made it better. I locked my door and opened the drawer just before I collaped on the bed. Every bone in my body ached and I cried tears of frustration that day. I'd hoped that this one would be different but he was the same as the others, a mean punchy drunk who resented the fact that his new squeeze had kids. I curled up in a ball and cried. I felt Tiny climb up on the bed but it was the warm body that I noticed first, then the small paw as Tiny rested it gently on my face and looked me in the eye and I swear he was telling me things would be all right. He licked my face and then settled down next to me, I stroked his rough brown fur and fell asleep. He was still there the next morning, a warm ball of hope in my otherwise shit life.

I hardly saw my friends now. In the four months I'd had Tiny he'd become my friend and confidant. I told him things I'd never told anyone else and his bright inquisitive eyes never wavered, never questioned what I told him, he just listened. I didn't need anyone else.

Then my world came crashing down.

I came home from school one day. I made myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and fixed myself a glass of milk. I went to my room to share it with Tiny. I opened the drawer and he wasn't there. I searched my room, under the bed, in the closet. I called and called but he didn't come. I searched the rest of the house…panic had set in. I saw the empty bottles in the trash and knew that my mom had been on a bender that day and had not gone into work. I couldn't search her room, in all likelihood she was already in bed with the new ass-hole. Tiny stayed in my room…he never went out of my room but what if he'd wandered next door into mom's room. I tried not to think of that scenario.

I searched my room again…maybe he'd fallen asleep somewhere and just hadn't heard me calling. I called again and lifted up all the clothes in my closet. Tiny did like to burrow. I had a pile of sweaters and tees strewn around me when the door flew open, the currant ass-hole stood in the doorway, and he was looking at me like I was something he'd stepped in. He gave me thump around the head and told me to clean my room; he said it was attracting vermin. I held my breath, my heart beat faster. He laughed as he told me that he'd cornered a rat in here and he'd taken it outside and swung it against the side of the garage. He smiled at me, a big shit-eating grin and I knew then at that moment that he knew that Tiny hadn't been a wild rat.

I got up, ran to the side of the house and saw Tiny lying on the floor. His brown fur matted with blood. I picked him up and hugged his stiff body to mine.

I buried him far away from the house and stayed out all night.

At the age of twelve I learnt never to care about anything that much again. It wasn't worth the pain when it was snatched away from you.

**Fin**

In loving memory of all the wonderful rats I've owned...especially Womble.


	2. Chapter 2

I've decided to add to what was this one shot from time to time. Here is the next slice of young Ryan according to Cheeky.

Beta-ed by **melanie39**...Thanks Mel.

Disclaimer- I own nothing to do with The OC.

**A Valuable Lesson**

Part 2.

My hiding place of choice was rank, the fetid smell of rotting fruit and vegetables permeated the air around me and the floor was thick with the slick ooze that leeched out from the rusting holes underneath the big metal containers.

I sat behind the dumpsters and played the waiting game. I rocked back on my haunches and carefully listened to the noises around me. I could hear from my vantage point the distant sounds of the school day ending, the voices of the kids who always hung around at the school gates before and after school trying their best to look intimidating, the sound of car doors slamming, souped up engines revving and the game girls giggling and flirting. School had been out for half an hour but I knew from past experience that things still weren't safe for me, not yet.

I couldn't understand why the Johnson kids were so intent on hurting me. I hadn't asked their dad to move into our house and I certainly didn't want him there. Out of all the assholes my mom brought home I hated the fact that this one had managed to worm his way in and make the transition from random guy to permanent fixture in our house. AJ was a huge man mountain with a mean streak a mile wide but my mom didn't seem to care. And after killing my pet rat he'd steadily progressed into my worst nightmare in the few months he'd been living with us. In that time he'd also managed to drive out my one other ally from the house. My brother now only made a pit stop home for a few hours a week. Being sixteen he'd dropped out of school and pretty much dropped out of our lives without a backwards glance. I didn't have that luxury. So my days were now spent avoiding the Johnson kids at school and their father at home. I still couldn't work out why AJ's kids were so bothered that their dad had left. If he had been my dad I'd have been singing from the rooftops. I couldn't imagine that he'd only morphed into a drunken bully the moment he walked over our threshold.

I checked my watch again, ten more minutes and it should be safe for me to go and get my bike. Sometimes I miscalculated, and the tenacious streak that the Johnson kids had won through for them. On those days I ended up with a kicking for being the kid of the slut who took their dad. I always tried to defend my mom but they didn't want to know. So sometimes no matter how long I waited, it made no difference. They'd just wait that bit longer. But I couldn't sit here all night so I had to take a chance that the lure of another activity would take them off sentry duty and allow me to slip away unharmed. Some days it worked, some days it didn't.

I got up and grabbed my bag. I slowly peered around the dumpster to see if the coast was clear. I hurried over to my bike and this was always the clincher. Would I be able to get the combination lock off before they appeared out of nowhere and pounded me? It seemed that today was my lucky day; I managed to get to the end of the last number and no fists. Things were looking up. I rode home feeling good for a change.

I should've know that feeling never lasts.

I knew as soon as I dumped my bike on the lawn that things inside were far from great. I could hear the high-pitched whine of my mom signaling that an argument was in progress. I snuck in through the front door and prayed that I'd pass under their radar. It seemed that my luck had run out for the day because AJ bellowed the instant he saw me asking me where the hell I'd been. I kept my head down and hurried past him to my room knowing that he didn't give a shit about how late I was home from school, he just wanted to get a rise out of me. I also knew that no matter _what_ I said he'd probably lash out, so I learnt not to say anything and hope that he'd leave it.

"Boy! I asked you a question."

I cringed and continued to walk, all the while wondering when I'd feel his hand on my collar. Thankfully my mom started to yell again and that must have distracted him.

I made it to my room, slammed my door shut and turned my stereo up loud to drown out the sound of their drunken bickering. I sat crossed legged on my bed, got my schoolbooks out and tried to concentrate on my homework. Things would go quiet for a few minutes then flare up again. I could see in my mind's eye that those were the breaks to go to the fridge and get another beer or light another cigarette. It was the usual argument, money or lack of. Since he'd come to stay mom had lost her job. She told me it was due to cutbacks at the restaurant but I'd smelt the acrid tang of hard liquor on her breath enough times to work out that that was the real reason. I may have been young but I'd already worked out that AJ was one of life's freeloaders and he didn't like it one bit that he might actually have to get off his butt and work. So their arguments always circled around money and were fueled by drink.

They started yelling in earnest. I hated this…I fucking hated this. I could feel myself get more uptight, my chest started to ache and my muscles tensed. I just wanted them to shut up for once. I wanted not to have to be 'this' family. I made up my mind to go next door and see Theresa. Her house was a refuge for me when things got bad and even though I hated the pitying looks her mom gave me when she noticed that I had yet another black eye, yet another hand shaped bruise on my arm. I also cherished the tranquil atmosphere of the Martinez household. The smell of Theresa's mom's freshly made tamales and the warmth of her hugs were so comforting to me that sometimes I fantasized that I lived with them and not in the house next door. It was hard some nights to go back at all and I could see on Mrs Martinez's face that sometimes it was hard for her to let me walk the few yards home too. But people helped each other out in this community, they didn't interfere and no matter how much Mrs Martinez wanted to say something to my mother I knew she never would.

I turned off the music and made my way to the window to climb out. It was wiser than walking back through the house when AJ was spoiling for a fight. I had just managed to heave the warped frame up when I heard a crash from the other room. I paused on the ledge, halfway in and halfway out…I heard the sound of glass being smashed. I quickly climbed back into my room and rushed over to the door, my heart pounded. As I opened it I heard the unmistakable sound of a fist against flesh and the sound of mom crying.

I ran into the room yelling for him to leave her alone. My mom was sprawled on the floor and AJ loomed over her. He told me to stay out of it and that the bitch was getting what she deserved. I flew towards him. God knows what I thought I could do with my skinny frame to stop him as his fist made the sweep back down towards my mother's face again but still I flew at him and grabbed his hand before it struck again.

He turned and glared at me, his eyes fierce and flung his arm at me as hard as he could. It connected with my head knocking me clear across the room. I landed in a heap on the wooden table. It didn't break but it overturned, sending bottles and cigarette butts flying. I was winded and lay gasping. AJ left my mom and stood over me with that look he got on his face…the one that told me I was in deep shit. The first kick landed on my stomach, the second my ribs. I shut my eyes and balled myself up tight to minimize the damage. I could pick out words in his incoherent muttering…'useless'…'waste of space'…'little bastard' … I'd heard it all before.

AJ stopped kicking but I knew better than to think it might be over. I opened my eyes and saw that mom had gotten up and was making her way over to the kitchen area. She was shaking as she picked up her cigarette packet. She lit one and inhaled deeply. She looked at me and I gave her a silent plea as AJ reached down and pulled my head up by the roots of my hair and dragged me upright. My vision fogged and I thought that I was going to throw up. I swallowed several times, now was not the time to make a mess on the carpet, AJ would probably relish rubbing my nose in it.

As he slammed me into the wall I saw that Mom had turned away and was looking out the window. A little bit more of me died that day.

Later, as Mrs Martinez cursed in Spanish and patted iodine on my cuts and grazes and Theresa stood by nervously watching and twisting the belt from her robe around her fingers, I realized that I'd learnt my second lesson, never to expect anything from my mother.

I loved her, she was my mother…but I realized that no matter what I did… I'd always rank lower than the drink and whoever was in her life at the time. She just didn't have it in her to place me higher.

That wasn't enough for me but it had to do, what choice did I have? The sad thing is I could understand why she didn't love me more, things had started to go wrong for her and my dad when I'd come along. I'd heard that enough times...her life was crap and it was my fault.

This epiphany also made me understand the Johnson kids more. Alan Johnson may have never been the father of the year to his kids but he was their father and it seemed that love was unconditional no matter how many times that person let you down.

It was tough being twelve years old.

**To be continued...  
**

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	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** A Valuable Lesson.  
**Rating:** PG13  
**Beta:** Ctoan.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own The OC, Ryan or Benjamin McKenzie.  
**Set:** AU Chino fic. Set when Ryan is about 12.  
**Notes:** For Brandywine's Birthday today! Also belatedly for Finlee and helen's Birthdays. Sorry its so late 

**A Valuable Lesson**

Part 3.

The week had started so well. Trey had suddenly appeared home two days before with no explanation; he'd just gone straight to his room and taken a shower like he hadn't been missing for ten days. Mom had welcomed him and hadn't questioned where he'd been; she was just pleased he was back. And for once everyone was in a good mood. Mom was happy to have both her boys back under one roof, she said. She was so pleased that she had gone to the store early that morning and planned to cook a roast for us all because 'it was about time we ate as a family.' Even AJ was jovial and mellow. It was still mid-morning and we were all up and about, which was strange for our house when most days, noon was considered early morning.

We pitched in and helped mom do the vegetables, even AJ who normally didn't lift a finger in the house. And if both mom and AJ were drinking a little too much, it didn't matter to me because there was no shouting, no arguments. We were having fun. Mom dumped a load of potato peelings on AJ's head and I held my breath for a moment but he laughed and chased her around the den with a damp washcloth. Trey and me joined in and soon all four of us were charging around the house squealing at the top of our lungs.

I remembered playing battleships with Trey a little while later whilst AJ was watching a taped boxing match and I could hear mom in the kitchen banging pots and pans as she worked. I thought that maybe things could be good again. It felt right, it felt normal and things hadn't felt normal in our house for a long time. AJ laughed as I sunk Trey's battleship for the third time running and called me a 'brain'…. My brother grabbed my head and gave me a good-natured noogie. For the first time in months, I felt myself relax. I saw no reason to worry today.

I saw no reason to worry today….

With the smell of cooking in my nose I retreated into my room to sort through my Pokémon cards. Trey had commandeered the phone to talk to a girl – yuk – and Mom and AJ had curled themselves up on the couch – double yuk. I was at the age where any hint of soppy romance made me squirm so I lost myself in laying out all my cards on my bed. Jigglypuffs, Charizards and Mewtwos surrounded me. My collection made Tee jealous – she coveted some of my rare cards and I was having fun winding her up over them but we both knew that I'd end up giving them to her. I was just wondering if I had time to go next door and gloat some more when Mom called me in for dinner.

We all sat down and started to pile up food on our plates. I set about making a moat of gravy around my pot roast and mashed potatoes. I got so engrossed in my task that I hadn't noticed that all conversation around the table had stopped. I looked up and saw Trey push his meat around his plate like it was poison. I turned my head and watched as AJ narrowed his eyes at him. I felt my face flush as I watched. Why did Trey always do this?

"Just eat it." AJ spoke quietly, his tone of voice more menacing than if he'd shouted.

"Meat is overdone…it's like a piece of fucking leather," Trey countered.

My throat started to close. My heart jumped as I looked from my brother to AJ.

I silently begged Trey to shut up and eat. I made a big thing of shovelling some food in my mouth and looking at mom as I chewed but she was already looking teary, her lips thin with disappointment.

"Your mother cooked you a meal and you're going to eat it," AJ snarled.

"Fuck you AJ…I don't see you eating it," Trey snarled back.

I continued to chew, the meat a fibrous mass in my mouth. It _was_ overdone and it _was_ like shoe leather but I couldn't understand why Trey had to spoil the day by saying so. Mom had tried – it wasn't like we weren't used to her cooking by now. And Trey knew that mom would never be like Theresa's mom when it came to food. He knew that. He was such a dick sometimes.

"You know what?" Mom threw her knife and fork down and they bounced across the table. "I don't know why I bother."

Then everyone started to yell at once - Trey at my mom, telling her to stop being such a drama queen; AJ at Trey, telling him he was an ingrate; and my mom at AJ, telling him that she had seen the look on his face as well when she'd dished up so don't try and put this all on Trey. I sat and watched as they all did what they did best; I sat and listened to them argue and shout and wondered why something as stupid as a burnt piece of beef had the capacity to turn a good day into a mess.

I could see Trey and AJ squaring up to one another over the table. I looked at mom but she was already lighting up a cigarette with a shaky hand and this usually signalled that she wouldn't step in no matter what. I pleaded with my eyes but she wasn't looking my way.

I could see my brother was heading for another beating and I started to panic. I knew that he'd leave again and maybe this time he wouldn't come home again. He couldn't leave again. He couldn't. I wouldn't let him.

I stood, picked up the casserole dish and hurled it with all my might at the far wall. It wasn't a very powerful throw but it still smashed, sending gravy sliding down the wall.

All three pairs of shocked eyes looked my way.

"I'm not eating this either…it's horrible," I shouted again and again.

I could see the confusion in my brother's eyes and the anger in AJ's, whilst my mom just stood there with an open mouth.

The next thing I knew, I was being dragged forcefully across the room by AJ. He was calling me an ungrateful little bastard amongst other things. I flinched in his arms, expecting the crap to be beaten out of me but he didn't - he just held my arm with a vice like grip and walked, with me being carried along in his momentum. He opened the door to the basement and shoved me inside. I heard the door slam behind me as I stumbled awkwardly down the stairs. I landed in a messy heap at the bottom. I lay there in a daze not quite understanding what had just happened. I wasn't sure whether to be relieved or scared at this recent turn of events. This form of punishment was new. I sat up and assessed myself for damage. My arm was a grazed quite badly; from my wrist up to my elbow little beads of blood were already breaking the surface through the dirt on my skin. My hip and ankle had also started to throb; I must have hit the banister on the way down.

I spat on the bottom of my tee shirt and wiped at my arm. It didn't do much good – it only made it hurt all the more.

So I was in our basement and I didn't like it at all. Only one dim light bulb lit the area and the place was a dirty heap. Years of junk were piled up and not all of it could have been ours, I deduced. Cobwebs stretched in every nook and cranny, making me shiver as I thought of all the spiders that must be down here, probably looking at me as I sat. I was just getting freaked at this when the light went off. I jumped as the basement was plunged into darkness. I got up and hobbled up the stairs using both my hands on the rail to guide me.

I tried the handle as I reached the top but it wouldn't budge. I shook and rattled the door, stupid I know – he wasn't going to let me out so soon no matter how much I pleaded. I gave up and sat on the top step, wrapped my arms around my legs, and waited.

The thing about being in the dark is, you really do lose track of the time. I didn't know how long I'd been down there. It could have been one hour or six. All I had was my thoughts and the occasional sound from behind the door. I heard my mom's voice and I heard the phone ring a few times but other than that, I sat in the silence. I'd fallen asleep at some point and awoken with a stiff neck and the need to pee. I tried holding on but realized that it was pointless as I didn't know how long this would go on for so I made my way back down the stairs. My ankle was really sore now so I hopped down each step, trying to gauge where they'd be. My eyes had grown somewhat accustomed to the dark but I could still see squat. I peed where I stood at the bottom of the stairs not really caring what I might be peeing on. Not that it mattered – the place stunk anyway. I made the slow journey back upstairs again. There seemed to be, from what I remembered when the light had been on, less webs up there.

I sat in silence again. I did multiplication in my head; I played a game where I had to think of a boy's name for every letter of the alphabet, and then I did it again with girl's names. I ignored my stomach as it rumbled; I ignored my head as it started to ache. I focused on keeping my mind occupied with trivia and away from the dark thoughts that sometimes lodged themselves in there. I tried to keep my spirits up.

I could feel my resolve start to crumble as the sounds from the house died down and I realized that I was probably here for the whole night. I could feel my throat begin to ache in the way that signals tears; I blinked a few times and dug my nails into the palms of my hand. I would not cry.

"Hey…Ryan." A voice whispered.

My head snapped up.

"Trey?" I whispered back after a pause.

"Yeah little bro, it's me. I'd let you out but he's taken the key."

My heart sunk.

"That's okay," I managed.

"That was a stupid thing you did in there, Ry…you didn't need to do that for me. I had it under control."

I heard a soft laugh.

"Jeez, and there was me thinking I was the only one with the crazy gene. You really let rip with that dish – all that pitching practice I made you do paid off, huh?"

I didn't know what to say. I hadn't expected Trey to figure out why I'd done what I did. I was pleased that he had worked it out though. He'd been there for me in the past.

"Ryan?"

I was silent for a while not answering him but feeling less scared than I had a few moments before now that Trey was here.

"Trey?"

"Shit bro, I thought you'd up and died on me."

"Can you turn the light on?"

"Fuck…sorry."

The light came on a second later.

"That better?"

I nodded, too weary to grasp the fact that he couldn't see my response.

"You okay…he didn't hurt you?"

"No," I replied.

No more than usual. I rubbed my ankle.

We sat and talked. Trey must have been uncomfortable crouched on the other side of the door but he sat there all night talking to me. Making sure I wasn't alone. I'll never forget that he did that for me. I'd never felt closer to my brother than I did that night.

I learnt that making sacrifices for the people we care about was a necessity of life.

And years later, when we'd fight and say mean things to each other that we could never take back, I'd think of that night. I'd think of all the things we said to each other then and all the things we'd promised. No matter what happened, it was Trey and me against the world.

**Fin**

R+R people. Go on make my day.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** A Valuable Lesson.

**Rating:** PG13

**Beta:**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own The OC, Ryan or Benjamin McKenzie. **Set:** AU Chino fic. Set when Ryan is about 11/12ish.

**Notes:**

**A Valuable Lesson**

**Part 4**

I made my way slowly down the street. I found myself having to stop every twenty or so paces to catch my breath and rest, not normal for a kid but then I wondered how normal it was to get the shit kicked out of you before you'd even got dressed for the morning. Sadly for me it was becoming an increasingly mundane occurrence. AJ was not a morning person.

My waking for school had, unfortunately that morning, corresponded with AJ coming home late from an all night poker game. From the constipated look on his face as he walked to the fridge to grab an early morning beer, he'd lost again. I should have just gotten down from the table and disappeared but I had a quiz second period and didn't want my stomach making noises in the quiet classroom, so I'd kept my head down and continued munching my generic Froot Loops-alike. AJ cluttered around the kitchen like a bull in a china shop. He threw down the bottle opener with a loud crash as it skidded into the jar of peanut butter and the bottle cap got tossed into the sink. I could feel his eyes on me but I kept my head low, concentrating on the vibrant colored circles of corn and wheat that floated in my bowl. But human nature was a bitch, it played tricks on you, made you do things you didn't want to and I found myself having to raise my eyes upwards after about two minutes to see if he was still looking. He was.

My mumbled answer of 'nothing' to his question of 'What was I staring at?' obviously inflamed his already tightly wound anger but he held back for some reason. I sensed that now was the time to leave, fast, before the thin thread of control AJ had snapped. I got up from the table and tipped the remains of my cereal down the sink, running water and using my finger to disintegrate the now mushy loops. I washed my bowl and spoon, placing them on the draining board then moved onto my milk glass. I could still feel his eyes boring into my back. I knew better this time. I was not going to look at him. I picked up the washcloth. It smelt like wet dog but I used it anyway to rub away the stubborn opaque smears from the glass. I don't know what happened. Maybe it was his stare that made me nervous or maybe it was just the wetness of the surface that made the glass slip from my fingers and land with a loud smack into the bottom of the sink. I held my breath and looked, it had survived. I picked it up and swung around to show AJ that no harm had come to the glass but I didn't have the chance. I felt a slap land on the side of my head, catching me hard on the ear. This time the glass shattered as it hit the kitchen floor.

AJ just exploded; I suspected that he'd been waiting for me to screw up just so he could feel justified in taking out his poker losses on me. It makes me laugh now as I look back to see that AJ really did think because he never hit me without a 'valid' reason that he was perfectly entitled to meter out his brand of punishment. In his eyes he was always fair because he never hit me… us without just cause. The fact that he was kicking and punching a twelve-year-old boy for merely breaking a glass was okay for him because I 'deserved' it. He ranted about how my mother didn't work hard to provide for us just so us ungrateful kids could wreck things willy-nilly. The fact that the glass had come free with a gallon of gas was neither here nor there to AJ… he was making a point. He was making a point with his boot in my ribs. See? He was fair.

The point had been made and AJ was happy that I'd learnt another of life's lessons. I actually heard him whistling ten minutes later as I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, gently cleaning the blood from around my nose.

And that was why I was walking gingerly to school. Part of me wished I had just gone next door like normal to meet Theresa for the walk to school as I normally did. I don't know why I was trying to hide this from her, from her mom, because the chances were that sometime over the next couple of days they would see me. Pride played a big part, also I guess I was so sick of this. I wasn't a kid anymore and I should have been able to fight back. Instead I'd flinched, cowered on the floor; I'd cried like a baby, I'd pleaded with him to stop. I wondered when I'd have the balls to stand up to him. Probably never, I just didn't know how to. That thought scared me. I hated having victim quite literally stamped on my face and for once I didn't want to see the look of pity that seemed permanently etched on Theresa's mom's face when she saw me.

So I walked alone. The feeling was not new to me; the feeling that I was floating around on this godforsaken, shit-kicking planet in my own bubble was a constant. I longed to finally grow up so I wouldn't have to feel that way anymore. Maybe when I was big and tall instead of being runty, as Trey called me, AJ would leave me alone, if not then I could just leave…get as far away from Chino as I could and hide from the world…start up a new bubble around myself, one in which I wasn't so scared.

My left knee hurt like a bitch and my right eye was already starting to close by the time I reached school. My ribs also ached but all in all I'd escaped any real injury. Past experiences told me that things could have been a lot worse. I deliberately avoided my locker knowing that Tee would have been waiting there, pissed that I had not walked her to school. Instead I made my way slowly to the boy's bathroom to hole up until the bell went for first class. I'd miss registration but that only carried a half hour detention and I could cope with that, anything that delayed me going home tonight would be welcome. I sat down on the closed toilet lid in one of the stalls and locked the door. I rested my head against the graffiti that marred the wall; I could hear the slight wheeze in my chest that always presented itself when my ribs played up. It would go in a few hours once the tightness eased and the bruising came out.

I don't remember falling asleep; I'd just wanted to stop the buzzing in my head by shutting my eyes for a moment. I awoke with a start to the sound of bags being dropped heavily on the floor and water running in the sinks. I could hear the sound of farting coming from the stall next to me, and a kid outside laughing like a drain at the noise, telling 'Billy' he was a fucking pig. I glanced at my watch, sudden confusion washing over me when the digital display told me I'd been asleep for over two hours. 'Billy' exited the stall next to me and I heard the sounds of a wet paper towel fight going on. I straightened up and wished I hadn't. A loud moan escaped my lips as my ribs screamed their displeasure at being moved. The words 'jerking off' floated over to me as I ground my teeth, willing the sharp pain to leave me. The hurried sound of the next stall door opening and the loud crash of the can lid being shut sounded next to me. I looked up and saw two faces peering down at me. I guess my appearance wiped the smile of their faces; they stared at me for a moment, all thoughts of catching whoever 'beating their meat' far from their minds now as they climbed down off the toilet. I heard mumbled talk of 'shit, he looks like he's done twenty rounds with Tyson' as they left the bathroom solemnly, playfulness suddenly vanished for Billy and friend. Welcome to my world.

I got up and opened the stall to the now empty bathroom; I dragged my bag behind me and looked into the cracked and flyblown mirror that hung over the sink. I did look like ten pounds of crap. My eye was completely shut now and a livid bruise shone on my cheekbone. My lip had split again sometime when I was asleep and a thin trail of red snaked down my chin. I felt like crying, frustration bubbling up under the façade of blankness that I carried around with me. I ran the water until the luke warm still left in the pipes turned cold and splashed my face several times. The water chased away my tears and the lingering fog that dulled my brain. I gently patted my face with a rough paper towel and took a deep breath. I could do this.

I was five minutes late to class. Mrs. Peacock frowned as I sat down. I expected her to give her usual rant about tardiness but she didn't. I felt myself relax, maybe no one had noticed my absence this morning and I might get away with just the short detention for missing registration instead of the more severe punishment that awaited skipping lessons and missed tests. A call home would not be welcome today. I kept my nose buried in my books and waited patiently until the class was over. I tried to ignore the fact that the words on the page of my history book were slightly blurred, knowing that a swift kick to the head did that. I'd be okay after a night's sleep. I also ignored the looks I got from the other kids over the state of my face; instead I let my mind drift and hoped that Mrs. Peacock wouldn't ask me any taxing questions.

The bell sounded signaling the end of that period. I gave a silent sigh of relief, I gathered up my things and stuffed them into my bag. I mentally tried to figure out how I was going to avoid Theresa for the rest of the day as I made my way to the door. A voice stopped me in my tracks. Mrs. Peacock was calling me back. My heart sank. I stood in front of her and waited for the rebuke for being late, it didn't come. Instead she stared at me, making me feel uncomfortable. She then asked the question that I came to fear the most…'Was everything alright at home?' My palms started to sweat. I nodded dumbly. She probed further, asking me what had happened. I stared at the floor; part of me screaming 'just tell her' but the greater part of me, the ashamed part, the part that didn't want anyone to know what a fuck my family was clammed up. She sighed and asked again. I eventually trotted out the same old story of how I'd tripped over my own feet and fallen down the stairs. I wondered what would happen if any of the many teachers I'd told this story to were to get together and work out just how often I seemed to manage to loose my equilibrium this way. Mrs. Peacock sighed again and looked embarrassed…I felt naked. I had a flash back to last semester when I'd told her the same story at least twice but still I looked into her eyes as if to dare her to doubt me. She paused for the longest second. I felt panicky under her gaze. It was like a stand off, me knowing that she didn't believe, her knowing I knew that. The scared part of me that wanted help was beginning to win the fight. Maybe she did care, maybe she could help me, maybe she really wanted to. I felt so tired of lying. I could feel the earlier tears prick at the back of my eyes again and I almost opened my mouth…almost. The door opening saved me and Mr. Ulrich the science teacher entered the room. He boomed out an apology and the eye contact between us was broken. She looked at the handsome face of Mr. Ulrich telling me I could now leave. I picked up my bag, careful not to wince as I did so, and made for the door. By the time I'd reached it I could already hear her laughter as she flirted with the man in front of her. I turned around to see that any sign of the concern that I'd just witnessed had completely vanished; she was twirling a strand of hair around her finger coquettishly as she talked animatedly to the teacher opposite her.

I shut the door quietly and leaned against it, breathing heavily. I kicked myself at my stupidity. My stupidity at almost having blabbed to her and my stupidity to think that she might have actually cared.

I learnt a valuable lesson that day. People cared up to a point, their consciences pricked at them to confront their fears but when it rocked them out of their comfort zone it was best to leave well alone. The ugliness was an embarrassment to most people… a blight that made them confront the fact that life was dirty. It was best to bury your head in the sand rather than admit to yourself that you were just as bad as the bogeymen that beat up on women and children by doing nothing.

It was to be many years later before I learnt that not all people hid from the darkness of life…some actively sought it out and flicked on the light switch to expose it. A business card and a kind smile was all it had taken to make me realize this.

Tbc.


	5. Chapter 5

**Title:**A Valuable Lesson.

**Rating:** PG13**  
Beta:**None...nope. All crappy mistakes are mine I tells ya.**  
Disclaimer:** I don't own The OC, Ryan or Benjamin McKenzie. Set: AU Chino fic. Set when Ryan is about 11/12ish.**  
Notes:** Set in Chino when Ryan is a wee lad of 12ish. 

**A Valuable Lesson**

I'd always been a fairly solitary kid.

I guess I was conditioned from an early age to be perfectly happy with my own company. I didn't need to be entertained, not that that was ever really an option. I'd learnt that it was usually prudent to stay in my room and away from the drama that surrounded our household.

It's fair to say that my childhood wasn't exactly filled with the normal heart warming family stuff I saw on TV or read about in books. Mom liked to blame it all on dad, saying that it had changed when he was sent to prison but to be honest it had always been the same even when dad had been around. No educational trips to the zoo, bonding at baseball games or fun jaunts to the circus for us. A trip to the supermarket was about as exciting as it got and as scintillating as it was for a twelve year old, chiller cabinets full of Hungry-Man TV dinners weren't quite the same as gazing at a dangerous and snarling lion through a wire fence but you took what you could get in our household.

Family holidays for us were odd weekends spent with my fraternal grandma, two days of arguments, dry meatloaf and boiled cabbage.

I had no real expectations. I lived in Chino where trips to Disneyland were rare. I'd long ago learnt that if you aimed low you were never disappointed. So when I heard my mom talking about a trip to Reno I knew that the possibility of my going was zero…less than zero if that were possible…more like 'ain't a cats chance in hell kiddo'. I fully expected to be palmed off on to the aforementioned grandma for yet another lesson in cooking the color out of every vegetable known to man but as the date grew closer and nothing was said about me going to Santa Teresa I found myself doing something that I never allowed myself to do, I found myself getting excited. Ten days in Reno with my mom, even if it meant spending more time with AJ. It was a holiday so he'd be in a good mood and less likely to use my face as a stress ball I figured. A holiday…it would be awesome. I never actually asked mom about the trip, I just assumed that I was going and she said nothing that would make me think otherwise.

I even told my brother about the vacation. Trey had snuck in one evening. Trey was seventeen and was never at home these days, when AJ had moved in he'd essentially moved out. I think she felt relief that he wasn't around anymore and she changed the locks on him to show how much she cared.

We slumped on the couch watching The X-files on TV whilst we ate pepperoni pizza with extra jalapeños. As we wiped our greasy hands on the brown velour of the couch and our jeans and he tried to warn me. He'd called me brain-dead if I thought I was getting a proper vacation. Trey said mom was one selfish bitch and it was time I realized it. Roses smelt like shit in our household and it was time I grew up to that fact. I really hated it when my brother talked like that about our mom. At that stage in my life I still had a fairly naive view of my mom even though she'd let me down more times than I could count.

As I said, I really thought that things would be different.

The night before the Reno trip I even packed a bag. Stupid huh.

I had butterflies in my stomach when my alarm went off the next morning. I was washing up my cereal bowl and spoon when AJ emerged from mom's bedroom scratching his ass as he always did. He immediately told me to get him a coffee.

Let me tell you about AJ… he was huge. Okay, I was a short, skinny kid back then but even when I hit my teens and developed muscles of my own he was still this immense and immovable mass of bone and sinew. His greasy dark hair was always pulled back into a tail and he was covered in tattoos, not all off them professional. Not that I knew it back then but a good percentage were acquired in prison and their inky crudeness added to his general threatening exterior. He also had a quick temper. His mood would change in an instant and I swear his eyes sometimes glowed red like the devil himself. If AJ told you to do something you did it.

So that morning I got the canister down from the cupboard with no argument and measured out the spoon and a quarter that was required by AJ as he sat reading an old paper. I placed the cup down next to his hand. He picked up the coffee and took a sip as he stared at me. I felt my gut clench. You didn't want AJ looking at you for longer than five seconds as it invariably meant big trouble, usually leaving me with a fist imprint somewhere on my body. He lowered his eyes and I felt myself breathe again. I started to back away which was usually the best thing to do when I'd been pulled into AJ's orbit. His deep voice broke though my confusion as I frantically tried to think of what I'd might have done wrong.

He casually told me I could have a cup of coffee if I wanted.

I remember blinking at him in disbelief. Rule one in the house was no one but no one touched AJ's coffee. Even my mom wasn't allowed although she did sneak the odd cup when he wasn't around just to get one over on him she said. The man mountain had no class but he did like his coffee and even though it was instant it was the good stuff and not the usual Wal-Mart special we drank. Was it some kind of trap? He laughed at me, as I stood frozen to the floor. He actually laughed and this time it actually reached his eyes. He clapped me on the back and I couldn't help but flinch as he got up and moved over to the counter. I watched as he spooned the dark brown powder into a mug and added water. He handed me the steaming cup as he sat back down at our chipped Formica table. He told me to sit. I did quickly, still thinking that this was some kind of trick but he resumed reading as he noisily slurped as he drank.

I've gotta say that it was that single cup of coffee that lead me in my lifelong addiction to the bean. It was so smooth with a thick warm flavour that coated my whole throat. The bitterness I tasted was not like the cloying tang our cheap stuff had. I sat sipping the coffee as I watched AJ. I spent my time wondering what had led to this unexpected treat. I should have known then why the king of morning temper was being so mellow and nice to me that morning.

As I approached the bottom of the cup my mom rushed into the kitchen in a flap. She was applying pink lip-gloss with one hand as she asked AJ if he'd packed the wash bag from the bathroom and where were he'd put the spare cigarettes for the journey. She heaved several large holdalls behind her as she nagged. AJ muttered several terse replies as reluctantly got up to load the car. I ran to my room to get my stuff.

Yeah…right.

Mom looked pissed when she saw my bag. In fact her exact words had been 'Where the fuck do you think you're going?'

She got a pinched, constipated look on her face and she studied me like I was a bug. She launched into a full-on mother rant, telling me that I was an ingrate, didn't I know she 'needed' a break from looking after me, she worked hard all year and how dare I try to make her feel bad.

I was apparently being a selfish little bastard.

I couldn't help it, my eyes filled with heavy wet tears but I wouldn't let them fall as my brother's words came hurtling back to hit me in the face.

I think my welling eyes made her feel guilty and maybe even touched a part of her that still felt maternal feelings for me. One of her eyes twitched but obviously upsetting me didn't make her feel bad enough to change her plans. She rubbed the top of my head and hugged me. I was old enough to look after myself apparently and I should feel proud that she trusted me. Mom even stopped long enough to tell me that she'd miss me.

Big whoop-de-fucking-do. Being trusted made me feel so much better now I was being left behind.

Mom slapped down fifty dollars on the counter and told me not to spend it all on junk food before she slapped her forehead and rushed back into the bedroom apparently forgetting something. AJ came bustling back into the house and I stared at the bag at my feet as he started yelling to my mom that they'd better get going if they wanted to get to the hotel for the free lunch buffet.

One promise to ring and a slammed door later, I was left standing alone in the centre of the kitchen. The tears started to fall now that there was no one to witness it.

I felt so stupid.

I kicked my bag clean across the room. It hit one of the chairs and knocked it sideways with a crash, it helped but I still felt frustrated. The new rejection cut deep and I felt an empty hole open up deep in my chest. I picked up one of the dirty coffee cups and threw it hard against the wall. It shattered sending shards of china across the linoleum. I slid down the fridge door until my ass hit the floor and hugged my knees against my chest.

It was a great feeling to know that I rated lower than a blackjack table with my mother.

I must have sat there for almost an hour before the cramps in my legs made me stretch. So I was on my own for ten days, I could cope with that, I spent a lot of time alone anyway as mom worked late shift at the diner but as I tried to convince myself I'd be okay I couldn't help feeling large dose of panic. Especially as the one person who'd make me feel better was away visiting her aunt in Sacramento.

Theresa was the only person I could really be myself with. She was a tiny Latino firecracker who no one messed with even her elder brother Arturo treated her with respect despite the five years between them. We were the same age and she understood me more than anybody. She covered for me at school when I had to skip, she held me when I needed the closeness of someone who cared and her mom had patched me up more times than I care to say. The house next door spelt sanctuary for me but the little square house stood empty and I'd never been more aware of just how much I'd come to rely on Theresa and her family as that moment in the kitchen as I picked up the fragments of the coffee cup. I suppose I the first thing I should have done was contact Trey but part of me wanted to prove my mom right.

I didn't need anyone.

It wasn't until later that night when I realized that the money my mom left on the counter was gone. I didn't have to be Columbo to work out who'd taken it. It seemed that the cup of coffee I'd had for breakfast turned out to be the most expensive cup I'd ever drink. I opened the cupboards to see what we had in. I wouldn't starve, I found packets of noodles, tins of ravioli and soup, packets of cookies and tubs of pudding. The fridge was less promising. No milk but plenty of beer and pickles. I had peanut butter sandwiches for my dinner that first night and for the next three nights. I'd survive and it wouldn't be the first time I'd had to find myself something to eat.

The sound of someone knocking at the door woke me the first night. I sat up and peered at my alarm clock. It was ten-thirty in the evening. I waited without moving as I fervantly hoped whoever would go away…they knocked again and again. I wasn't religious but I prayed that they'd just go. I started to get visions of police breaking down the door and charging in or maybe it was someone casing the house knowing that my mom was away. Eventually I heard footsteps retreating and the sound of a car door slamming.

All the next day I worried about who it had been. Our family had its fair share of encounters with the social services and I can't say I had any trust in them. They looked at me like I was a specimen on a microscope slide. They tried to trip me up and make me say things I didn't want to say. So I mistrusted social workers and what they could do. They were always a blackness that loomed over me, sometimes when mom yelled at me she'd threaten to put me into foster care and I lived in fear that I would be taken away. As much as I hated AJ I loved my mom and the thought of living with strangers terrified me.

So I worried.

According to mom the people on our block were always out to get us. Maybe someone had tipped the social worker off? I knew I was a terrible liar and I wouldn't know what to say if someone asked after my mom so I decided that I'd stay inside so no one would know I was in the house. The fact I lit the house up like a Christmas tree was a big give away in the attempted stealth stakes. Hey, I was smart in some ways but I was also twelve.

I caught up with my school reading list during the day and sat up late most nights watching TV. I thought I'd like being on my own. I didn't have to fight with anyone over what I wanted to watch, I could flick channels and not have AJ shout at me but after a few hours the fun wore off. I'd never really noticed how noisy our house was before but every creak and groan seemed to be amplified in the silent house and the ominous blackness from outside seemed to seep its way inside hence why I kept the lights blazing.

I didn't like the feeling of space, so much space and only me to fill it.

I'd also developed a convoluted ritual each night, I knew I was being stupid but I couldn't stop. I worried about burglars not that we had anything to steal, so I checked and rechecked the locks and bolts on the doors and made sure that all the windows were shut tight every night, once I'd finished I found myself unable to relax until I starting it all over again… just in case.

I couldn't break the fucked up cycle, if I didn't recheck then I got it into my head that something bad would happen and it would all be my fault. I imagined freeway pile-ups involving my mom, my brother would get shot, Tee would be murdered by a homicidal maniac in Sacramento…the list went on and on and it would all be my fault because I hadn't checked the deadlock on the front door yet again.

I couldn't sleep for fear that I'd bring Armageddon down on all my family and friends.

The only upside of one of my obsessive rounds of checking was I found a half full bottle of vodka and several porn magazines in my brother's closet. Yeah, I was even checking in all the closets and under the beds in case someone sneaked in whilst my back was turned. The magazines kept me busy for the next couple of days. I didn't think that Trey would mind under the circumstances. I've got to say that it was probably a good thing I was on my own because I don't think I could have faced anyone without blushing, as it was I don't think I'd ever be able to face Theresa again.

I'd had no contact with anyone for almost a week and I tried not to feel betrayed at the telephones continued silence. I would not let it get to me. Everything was going okay apart from being lonely and my minor OCD problem.

What hurt most was mom still hadn't rung me.

On the fifth night alone I stole several beers from the fridge to help ease the loneliness I was feeling. I knew AJ would kick my ass when he got back but that seemed like such a long way away I didn't care. I was also hungry but the food in the house now was making me feel sick just thinking about it. Dry cereal out of the box and ketchup on toast made from slightly blue bread had become a staple for me and I never wanted to see chicken noodles ever again. I wasn't going to get malnutrition after only five days but I craved real food. Thick juicy steaks and fries and surprisingly I started dreaming of big glasses of cold orange juice, my mouth watered just thinking about it after all the cherry Kool-Aid I'd been drinking. I decided that I needed to eat something that wasn't stale bread or dehydrated. After several minutes of deliberation I picked out a tin of chicken soup. I wasn't normally a fan of soup but it sounded tempting to me, and if I scrapped the mould of the remaining two slices of bread I could have some toast to dunk into it.

I opened the can of Campbell's and poured it into a saucepan. I lit the gas and stood watching the pan before I remembered my toast idea. The blue was a little too much for scraping so I cut the crusts off and put the wonky shapes of bread into the toaster. The soup began to make plopping noises as bubbles of heat broke the surface pale cream surface. It started to smell good and I felt my stomach rumble. I checked the can again and it said heat for five minutes so I decided to give it more time. I grabbed the toast and a bowl. Time to eat.

I don't know what happened. I think the sleeve of my sweatshirt caught on the pan but I can't be sure because it happened in a kind of blur as I felt the searing pain as the thick soup splashed on my hand and soaked into the grey material of my top. What was strange is that it took what seemed like an eternity for my brain to actually catch up to the fact that it hurt. I just stood there and stared dumbly before I gave a pained yelp and ran to the sink. As the cold water washed my hand clean I could see livid red appear. I pushed my sleeve up and saw the same scarlet rawness. I felt sick but I kept my arm under the tap even though the gushing water hurt more than I could almost bare.

I never felt more alone in my life as I watched my skin start to blister under the cold tap. I miserably turned off the gas and left the pan where it lay on the floor, the chicken soup already congealing on the lino.

The only medical supplies I found in the bathroom were a squashed pack of plasters, a tube of cold sore cream and a pack of Tylenol with four left in the bottom. I took two and wrapped a towel around my hand and up my arm in lieu of a bandage.

That night I curled up on the sofa with my arm cradled in my lap. I couldn't bend my fingers easily without wincing and my whole arm throbbed hotly. The Tylenol didn't help much either. I must have watched every episode of Knight Rider in a pain filled trance, I think I finally fell asleep just as the sun was coming up.

I woke with the TV still on and a crick in my neck. My arm felt worse than it had the night before. I gingerly lifted the towel to see how bad it looked, my heart started to pound in panic when I found that the cotton had somehow stuck to my skin overnight. I tried to gently pull away the towel but even the tiniest of movements made me cry out in agony.

I wanted the towel off my skin, it became important to me although I couldn't tell you why…I just thought that maybe if it was off then it wouldn't hurt so much.

I stood and started pacing. My breath coming in heavy heaves as I fought to think.

I remembered Trey telling me that the best way to take a plaster off was to just rip it in one quick movement. I wasn't a doctor and this was the only thing I could think of doing and the only other thing that came into my head was memories of bad cowboy films watched with my dad.

I felt better now I had something I could work towards but I needed supplies.

With my arm held against my body I rifled through the kitchen before settling on a wooden spoon and made my way into the room I shared with Trey. I had trouble opening the illicit bottle of vodka with one hand but with the help of my teeth I eventually managed. John Wayne was sitting with me as I sat on my bed and took a big gulp of the vodka. I gasped and gagged as the vile liquid burned down my throat but I took another swig. With the handle of the wooden spoon in my mouth I took a deep breath and grabbed the towel.

I let the out deep breath I'd been holding. I couldn't do it. John Wayne shook his head at my cowardice.

I tried again. I was not a 'pussy' no matter how many times my brother called me it in the past. I paused and shut my eyes, ignoring the line of drool that ran down the spoon and onto my thigh.

I pulled hard with one fluid yanking motion.

I've never felt anything like it before. Being punched had nothing on what I felt as when that towel came away from my skin. I'm not ashamed to say that I screamed. I hyperventilated until the intense burning sensation lessoned a degree. I rocked back and forth with tears streaming down my face. A good percentage of my skin was attached to the fluffy fibres of the towel leaving a mass of bloody and weeping sores.

I never wanted my mom more in my life. This was bad…really bad. I'd broken my ribs before, my ankle and collarbone but this was worse than each of those put together. My whole arm felt like it was on fire and even the slightest movement made me want to throw up.

I tried to cope, hoping the hurt would lessen as the day wore on. It didn't. I finally managed to fall asleep late into the night but the nightmares I suffered made me wish I hadn't. My arm woke me up several times and the need for the bathroom made me leave the nest I'd made for myself on the couch. In my mind I thought that if I just made it through the night then maybe my arm would be better in the morning.

I found myself staring at the floor for a long time the next morning before I plucked up the courage and rang the number I had for Trey. My usual luck was in full swing. No one answered. I left a pleading message, hoping that he could understand me through all the hiccups and snot.

Stupid I know but I expected my brother to charge into the house immediately. Trey always knew what to do and he'd always protected me from my dad and later from my mom's boyfriends. I aspired to be like my big brother, nothing seemed to rattle him. He seemed so in control. I was scared of my own shadow back then.

I waited and waited but after four hours of intermittent tears and shivering I realized that he wasn't coming. Disappointment and fear hit me when I realized that I this was it…I was truly on my own. I guess I thought my brother would always be there for me. He was my very own Superman always to come flying in when I needed him most. Maybe he'd gone to Reno too. Maybe that had been the plan all along.

I was truly on my own. It hit me then the difference between being happy to sit in my room by myself in a house full of people and being honest to goodness alone. I wanted to curl up into a ball, curl up inside myself until I disappeared which is what everybody wanted apparently. I'd been told a million times by that I was a mistake and should never have been born, oh she always acted like she was joking once she sobered up but I'd learnt with mom that never a truer word was spoken when the vodka was talking.

I eventually shook myself out of my pity party and dried my tears on my shirt.

Trey wasn't coming so I had to do something for myself. I'd taken the last two Tylenol hours before and they'd long since worn off. I tried running my arm under the tap again to help with the burning but the water hitting my arm and hand hurt way too much. I couldn't even move my fingers anymore. Out of desperation I went into moms room, something that was forbidden if mom wasn't in there and looked in her bedside table. I'd seen her take tablets out of the drawer before so maybe she had something in there that I could take. I pushed through piles if old letters and junk before finding what I'd hoped. With one hand I picked up the little brown pill tubs I found. I read the labels, I'd only heard of one of the medicines on the tubs. The worn label was not that clear and I couldn't understand why mom had a bottle of tablets that had a 'Mrs. Irene Warburton's' name printed on it but I thought that it was a pain medication, I was sure I'd heard Trey talk about OxyContin but to be honest my arm hurt so bad I'd have taken it even if I hadn't.

I shook out two of the pills but added two more when I thought about how ineffective the two Tylenol had been. I put the bottle of tablets in my pocket and made my way back to the den and took them with a swig of stale warm beer. I wasn't religious but I prayed that they would make me feel better. I left the curtains shut as I sat down on the floor with my back against the couch. The TV had become my only distraction and I stared at the screen vacantly not really watching. I don't think I'd ever felt so low in my life. I wanted Theresa, I wanted Trey, and I needed my mom.

On the TV a chef was piping whipped cream on a cake and grinning manically at me. The screen had started to get an otherworldly feel about it. It seemed so big and bright. I watched dumbly as words floated around the room surrounding me with heavily accented British vowels. I could hear someone's car alarm going off outside and it felt strange to think that everything outside was normal when things had started to turn upside down for me. My eyelids felt heavy and my whole body was starting to vibrate but I didn't mind, I felt a deep sense of peace creep over me and for the first time since it happened my arm didn't hurt.

Looking back I felt the same kind of wellbeing when AJ filled the house with acrid blue smoke when he smoked skunk all weekend. I was high without realizing and it was so great to feel happy after the past week I didn't even register. I only started to panic when my ears began to buzz and I realized that I couldn't have moved even if I wanted too. Everything was blurring around the edges and the blond cook's voice was getting louder and louder. I felt confused when I couldn't stay upright. I was also sick and heaved several times as I slid sideways onto the floor. I landed heavily on my arm but again I felt no pain only the incredible sense of loosing touch with reality. I should have been worried about the vomit on the floor and the fact that I was lying in it but the hum in my head was blocking out all thought as the room faded for me.

I don't know how long I lay there floating in between consciousness. Even when I was awake I couldn't open my eyes. I heard a crash from somewhere far away and the sound of breaking glass but again everything became faint until I felt someone grip my shoulders as they shook me. I could hear them, also several other voices converging into a cacophony of sound that made my head scream. I wanted to tell them to stop shouting but no words came.

My brother always shouted.

'_Is he dead?'_

'_Ryan, wake up…wake the fuck up.'_

'_Trey...look at him, look at his arm. What the hell happened?'_

"_He's not waking up…do you think he's taken something.'_

'_What's he taken?'_

'_Here…it's half full.'_

'_Shit, how many has he taken?'_

'_How the fuck should I know. Shit…Ry don't do this to me…wake up please.'_

Again I felt my body shake violently. I wanted to tell Trey to leave me alone, I wanted to tell them all to leave me alone.

'_Trey man, we gotta get him to hospital.'_

'_No…. let me think.'_

"_Trey!'_

'_They'll take him this time Turo. I can't believe she fucking left him. I thought she took him…I called round to check…I did … he didn't answer the door. Why didn't he answer the door?'_

'_Trey…we need to get him out to the car.'_

Someone lifted me up. They were crushing my arm against their chest and a zipper rubbed with each step, I felt my head loll backwards as a car door opened. The voices were still around me and I wondered where we were going. It seemed like a strange time to go for a drive considering I was asleep. Maybe Trey was taking me to go see mom. The car smelt of stale beer and cigarette smoke and it was strangely comforting as was the fact that someone was stroking my head and face, which was a totally gay thing and I couldn't picture my brother doing anything like that but I could also smell the Polo cologne he always wore and hear his voice whispering in my ear so it must have been him.

I kept fading out to the sounds of the soft words pleading with me to be okay, panicked cussing and car horns. It was like I was in a weird dream in which my brother and his gang friends had changed into Eagle scouts on a mission to get a badge. I'd have laughed if I could because most of the time they barely tolerated me. I was just the little brother who tagged along like a pain in the ass.

Bright lights and antiseptic, shouted instructions and pleas came next. They pushed a tube down my throat and I threw up. I had something up my nose, which tickled coldly and smelt like plastic and crushed walnuts. They stuck needles in my arm and pulled me around until I whimpered. I think I kept asking for mom and through half open lids I saw the looks of pity that flew around the ICU. I'd seen the same look from the dean's assistants whenever I turned up at school with fresh bruises on my face. More than anything I wanted people to stop looking at me like that. Once again tears forced their way past my carefully built defences.

People continued to pull me around until I couldn't take it anymore and eventually everything went peacefully black and this time I didn't have the strength to fight it.

I don't know how long I slept but when I woke I was in a bright yellow room of beds full of kids with cartoon characters on the walls. My arm was covered in what looked like plastic wrap and Vaseline. I studied my hand for a while wondering if my fingers would ever look normal again because the swollen sausages on the end of my arm didn't look like my fingers. I struggled upright and I couldn't help crying out when I moved. A kind looking woman appeared next to me as if by magic. She was plump and pink cheeked with hair alarmingly the color of Heinz tomato soup. She asked me if I hurt and I nodded shyly suddenly scared. She smiled and injected something into the canular on the back of my unharmed hand, I started to feel woozy and the pain thankfully receded. The nurse talked to me in a soothing tone as she introduced herself and told me that my brother had sat with me all night, he'd just gone off in search of coffee.

She sat by my bed until I saw Trey walking back into the ward clutching a paper cup. My brother looked up just as he was nearing the bed, his eyes were red rimmed with smoky smudges underneath but his face lit up in a lopsided grin when he saw me sat up in bed. His stance seemed to change before my eyes, the slumped shoulders straightened and the usual cocky swagger was back. He lent down and gave me a one armed hug before he gently tapped my knuckles. I wanted to ask him so many questions but he took the time to flirt with my nurse, promising a drink after her shift before she left us alone.

Trey sat down in the recently vacated seat. With no preamble he asked me what the hell had happened, I could tell by the angry way he spoke that he suspected AJ had a hand in it. My mom's boyfriend usually used his fists but AJ could also be creative when he wanted and on occasion he'd put cigarette butts to use. Even though I told him what had happened I guess I'd lied one too many times about my various injuries even to my brother. Of course I didn't lie out of any allegiance to AJ. I guess I feared what Trey would do if he learnt the full extent of what life at home had become in his absence and although I'd pictured AJ with a knife in his back many times but I didn't want Trey to be the one responsible for it.

I pleaded with Trey to believe me and I think I managed to convince him that it had all been an accident on my part but Trey was too angry to calm down. He raved about mom and how it was all her fault. If she hadn't have left me alone then it wouldn't have happened as if he didn't know that most of the time I got my own meals anyway. It wasn't like mom was like the mom's you saw on TV who waited for you when you came home from school with a smile and milk and cookies. I sat silently ignoring the curious looks from the other kids on the ward and let my brother vent.

They couldn't find my mom. Reno was a big place and she hadn't bothered to tell anyone where she'd be staying...which was just typical according to Trey.

It hit him that I'd gone quiet and all the fight seemed to go from Trey in an instant. He hugged me again and that worried me. Two hugs from my brother in one day meant that something was up. He couldn't seem to meet my eyes when I asked what was wrong and I started to get upset. I asked again and again only to see Trey bite his lip and take deep breathes as if he wanted to be a million miles away. Eventually he told me to calm down and then he told me in a voice so quiet I had to strain to hear it.

Social services had been called.

I was going to be taken away.

Put into foster care.

I stared at Trey unable to speak.

No.

Not again.

Last time I had my big brother to protect me but I knew this time I would be on my own.

I pleaded with Trey to let me stay with him even though I knew that would be impossible. Even as a kid who idolised his brother I knew that there was no way that 'they' would let me stay with him. He was seventeen then and already had several stays in Juvie Hall behind him but I still hoped that the twist of fate that kept screwing up my life would be on my side this time.

Trey stayed with me the whole time I was in hospital.

But no one cared that he was there for me and they came two days later.

I went quietly.

Fighting those people was a waste of energy.

I'd learnt that a long time ago.

My mom appeared the same morning they took me.

She didn't bother to try and stop them.

**Fin**

…. for now


End file.
